Chapter 24
FRAYING EDGES
When Brandon summoned Marigold to the study, she was expecting it had something to do with the operation against Johnny. And yet she could tell that he looked more agitated than normal. He had tension on his shoulders and a tightness in his jaw that made her see that something was wrong.
“I want to annul our deal.”
She stared at him as the words hung in the air. She still couldn’t grasp the full meaning of them.
“What?” she asked in the most composed way she could summon.
“Our deal,” Brandon said. “You have already given me all the information you need about Johnny. As for the other part… an heir… that doesn’t need to be a part of our deal anymore.”
Marigold felt the floor drop right under her feet, and yet she still had to pretend she was standing tall. The thought that came to her was simple and heartbreaking. Brandon didn’t need her anymore.
“I see,” she lied because for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what was going on.
“I’m glad you do,” Brandon seemed relieved.
Marigold nodded, unable to form a coherent conversation in this moment.
“You see, Marigold,” he said, looking into her eyes, devastating her with that deep look of his, “you are now free to…”
He hesitated. Of course, he did. He was just letting her go. It was not that he should concern himself with how she would spend that freedom. After all, that freedom came with the title of the Duchess, so he must be thinking that that was enough restitution.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Brandon frowned upon hearing her call him in that formal way.
Perhaps he was expecting her to break down in hysterics. That proved how little he knew her. She had been through a lot and still hadn’t broken down, and she refused to do so because…
“If you’ll excuse me, I would like to go to my room,” Marigold said and didn’t wait for his answer.
She turned her back and walked out of the room. If she stayed one moment longer, she might have broken down in tears.
Marigold all but ran to her room and closed the door, leaning against it so that she wouldn’t completely collapse. Her hands were shaking, and her heart was pounding. He always had that effect on her but not for the same reason.
He’s letting me go. He doesn’t want me anymore.
That was all she could think about. The only thoughts that her mind would allow were getting darker and darker. She could only find one reason for this change of heart.
The other night. Their intimacy. It was not to his liking. He was already bored with her, a clueless spinster of low means.
Marigold pressed her hands to her face and took a shaky breath. She couldn’t afford to fall apart, even though she really wanted to. She may have lost him, but she still had a lot of good things for her. She still had this house to run, her little garden, Duck.
As if sensing her distress, the giant dog woke up from his slumber on the carpet in front of her bed, padded over, and stood before her. Marigold slid down to the floor and pet her head absentmindedly.
“Well, I hope you still want me.”
Duck licked her hand as if in acceptance. Marigold chuckled, biting down her tears.
* * *
That night, Marigold did not go down for dinner, and she sent word that she was unwell. She was informed that the Duke had left the house earlier. She was not surprised to hear so.
So now, Marigold just lay in bed, staring at that luxurious canopy of her big, empty bed. Her mind was determined to torture her, replaying every little moment they had shared. Every single touch. Every kiss. Every time he praised her.
Was it all a lie?
That question replayed in her mind again and again. Was it all a game, part of the deception? Was he going through the moves like he did every time he seduced a woman? And she was so naive as to fall into his trap.
Despair got a hold of her. But Marigold sat up, determined not to allow this.
After all, she had survived worse. Being insulted and assaulted.
Being wronged and coerced. This was the same order, but this time she had the resources of a duchess.
She was in a warm home and had food on her table and could take care of others, serving food on their table too.
And yet all of it was not enough consolation for the emptiness she felt inside. Exhausted, she fell asleep at some point.
* * *
When she woke up in the morning, her eyes were red, and her face was pale. Beth came into the room at the same time she did every day.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Good morning.”
Even that simple transaction took almost all of her energy to complete.
“You didn’t come down for dinner yesterday, Your Grace.” Beth seemed genuinely worried. “You said you were unwell, and I can see that too. Do you want me to call the physician, Your Grace?”
“No need,” Marigold said and went through the motions of getting dressed for the morning.
What could a physician do about her being scorned? Not that one would argue that she would be immune to the sentiment. There was hardly any time that she wasn’t scorned. But somehow, she had foolishly allowed herself to believe that Brandon was different.
She sat down at the vanity while Beth took care of her morning routine. Her maid was droning on about something, but Marigold could not concentrate on her words.
“Poor Allie,” Beth said.
“What happened?” Marigold welcomed the distraction.
“Well, the Duke asked her to stay vigilant in case you needed something in the middle of the night since you were feeling unwell. She too was quite worried.”
Marigold tightened her fists. Perhaps he was worried she would throw a tantrum or make a scene. Or perhaps he was truly worried about her.
New resolve bloomed inside her. She would not give up that easily. A chance to clear the air and salvage this, she would take it.
Once she was ready, she made her way down to the breakfast room.
She was determined to ask for clarification and explanation.
If she were to be condemned to a house haunted by the absence of a husband, childless and abandoned, she deserved some explanation.
Or perhaps she could salvage this, save the situation.
But when she entered the breakfast room, it was empty, save for the servants going about. A place was set on the table, and she smelled her favorite tea, not mixed with coffee. Mrs. Hodgins came in with her correspondence and a smile on her face.
“His Grace?” Marigold asked.
“He left early for business. He let us know that he will not be back for lunch.”
She had never felt pain so sharp in her life. It was as if somebody had slapped her. It had been a while that they had most of their meals together, but perhaps that was just something to put her at ease, so they could be intimate. After all, he was a decent person.
“Thank you,” she told the housekeeper and sat down to have her breakfast.
“Your Grace, do you really have the time to look over accounts for the renovation of the ballroom?”
Marigold felt a sting in her heart. She somehow remembered him coming so close, telling her she had inexhaustible resources, getting the ballroom back to its former glory. And for what? So, they could keep up appearances.
“Yes, I will be in my office after I have had my breakfast.”
“The architect will visit in the next few days, so it would be better if we were prepared. Do you think His Grace would like to be there in the meeting?”
“I believe His Grace,” Marigold tried hard to bite down the trembling in her voice, “would approve anything I decide.”
Mrs. Hodgins smiled, thinking that this was proof of His Grace’s warm feelings towards her. Marigold did not have the heart to tell her that it was proof of his indifference.
She had her breakfast and received her correspondence, mechanically.
After her officially becoming a duchess, invitations started pouring in for various social events, especially for her.
And yet Marigold had never felt more alone in her life.
She took her correspondence with her to her study and sat down in the chair of the Duchess.
“I am sorry I am late, Your Grace.” Mrs. Hodgins came in with more tea, balancing the new ledger.
She opened it in front of Marigold, but there was no focus to be found. The numbers were swimming before her eyes, and she could not even make the simplest of calculations.
“Remind me again what that sum is,” she asked her housekeeper.
“It is the new price for the curtains we have agreed on, Your Grace.”
Marigold could not remember a single thing. She looked at the ledger as if confused.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Hodgins said gently, “are you quite all right?”
“I am fine,” Marigold tried to force herself to focus on the ledger. “Let us continue.”
She worked like that for another hour, but when she started to make a few mistakes, she decided to give up. And right on time.
Beth appeared at the study door.
“Your Grace, there is a visitor for you. Lady Reeds is here.”
Marigold’s heart was lifted and dropped at the same time. She was happy that her friend was there, but she was also aware of how sharp Lily was and how easily she would see the situation. Marigold freshened up as best as she could and entered the drawing room to find Lily with a cup of tea.
“Marigold! I am sorry I didn’t write ahead, but I found myself wanting to see you today.”
Marigold wondered if Lily knew of the situation. Perhaps even Brandon had asked her to keep an eye on her, smooth over any reaction she might have. And yet somehow, she was happy to see Lily there.
“You never have to worry about coming in unannounced,” Marigold said and sat down next to Lily.
“You seem quite distracted.” Lily was always observant. “Is something the matter?”
Marigold was not ready to talk about what ailed her with her friend, not just yet.
“I think perhaps I underestimated what is required of a duchess,” Marigold mustered a weak lie. “The renovation of the ballroom alone—”
“I get enough half-lies from my brother to not suffer the same with my friend.”
Marigold really enjoyed Lily’s astuteness, but in this particular moment, it was a trait that made her life a little bit more difficult.
“Judging the way you are avoiding answering my question, and by this little pause,” Lily said with a smile, not the least offended, “I can safely come to the conclusion that this regards Brandon.”
“And the half-lie would be that I underestimated what was expected of a duchess.”
Lily nodded with sympathy.
“I am not going to sit here and pretend that Brandon is the easiest of the menfolk. I have known this man even before he was a duke. And I must say I have rarely come across anyone so cold and so closed off.”
Lily was confirming what Marigold already knew. And yet memories of him holding her and telling her how proud he was for standing up to her mother, the freedom he gave her, the agency in her actions and decisions.
Then again, being a decent human being had nothing to do with the fact that he does not let people in. And she had just become another person he decided to keep at arm’s length.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Lily’s chuckle brought her back to the present, “I love Brandon like a brother. But like Owen, my sibling love extends to the fact that I want to smack them both in the head. For completely different reasons, but the result is the same.”
Marigold chuckled, grateful for Lily’s carefree stance that helped her ease the pain inside her. And for the next hour that Lily stayed chatting and talking and gossiping, Marigold managed to nod and smile and momentarily forget.
After Lily left, Marigold stood by the window, staring out at the garden.
From where she was standing, she couldn’t see the vegetable patch growing and thriving, but she knew it was there.
He had given that to her along with her freedom.
He gave her status, money, and comfort. By all means, Marigold should have been satisfied.
Marigold straightened her spine. She decided that she would not spiral into despair or assume the worst. Being satisfied and comfortable might have been enough, but Marigold strived for more. And if he was not willing to give her more, he would have to say so in her face.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said to herself. “I will not go quietly. And I will not allow this to slip through my fingers without a fight.”